The-Boy-Who-Lived by Rita Skeeter
by onepieceofharry
Summary: Rita Skeeter follows Harry home after the events in fifth year. She publishes an article which everyone in the school reads at the beginning of Harry's sixth year that changes everyone's perspective of The-Boy-Who-Lived. HPDM slash way later on. Mentor!Snape and let's just beat up Harry, okay?
1. Prologue

**The-Boy-Who-Lived by Rita Skeeter**

**Chapter 1: Prologue**

**Words: 2,606**

**Rated: M**

**Set after Order of the Phoenix and before Half-Blood Prince**

* * *

Harry let out a heavy sigh as he packed his things to return home. It had been a grueling and emotionally charged year and Harry was exhausted. He just wanted the new school year to simply start tomorrow so he wouldn't have to pack his things.

When Sirius had died, that was all Harry could think about. Even now he can't go five minutes without being reminded of his dead godfather, and the knowledge that the only reason he's dead is because Harry was too stupid to question the vision Voldemort sent him. Hours of work put into learning occlumency and he didn't even stop once to wonder if his knowledge was being put to the test. Now he was short a godfather.

Ron came in and helped him silently, rushing just a bit. Ron and Hermione had given Harry space after the department of mysteries and were awkwardly dancing around him, not quite sure of what to do. Harry showed his appreciation whenever he could by smiling warmly at him, but they always just seemed more concerned afterwards. Harry knew they would help him in whatever way he needed, but he preferred to simply not speak of it. He knew they were also suffering, with the impending war and the aftermath of Umbridge's reign. He wouldn't want to dump all his problems on them, which upon reflection, he does a lot.

The trip back home was full of half-hearted laughs and somber attitudes. Only Luna was the exception, with her constantly high expression. When the train finally pulled into the platform the friends had to part ways. With promises to write, Harry asked Ron if he could house Hedwig for the summer, seeing as she'll be going back and forth anyways. It was with a faint buzzing noise in Harry's hair that he finally settled himself in for another two months of enduring the Durselys. It was a practiced state of mind to not expect any kindness during the summer, and to adjust oneself accordingly. A morbid and frankly disgusting thought passed through Harry's consciousness just then; _If the Dursleys are harder on me than usual, I might not have to think about Sirius at all._

The thought was quickly dismissed, as it felt like bordering on insanity to welcome the treatment he received at home, but as the car ride drew longer and the tension increased, he was forced to re-examine the concept. It usually took all his strength to survive the summers anyway, so it wasn't like it would be hard to forget himself. And besides, it wouldn't be any less pain than Sirius had felt when dying. It could be a way to make up for his mistakes. The senseless cruelty could mean something. He wouldn't be a victim that summer, but a person paying their dues. It would motivate him to survive, and also distract him from the guilt, by feeling like he's lessening the guilt, if only a little bit.

That conviction cheered Harry and he settled into the summer quite comfortably. He'll use only the barest amounts of healing potion, to simply stop him from bleeding into his shirts. It will help elongate how long his supplies last. Harry hadn't wanted Snape to get too suspicious so he had only stolen a dozen vials worth.

His newly formed plan made a small smile appear on his face as he walked through the threshold at privet drive. The small smile was all the provocation uncle Vernon needed to quickly backhand him. The action left Harry dazed for a minute until he got his bearings and slipped the neutral mask he wore on his face. Harry often mused that the only reason he should have been in slytherin was this mask that he had perfected. The vials were safely tucked into his sweater and jean pockets, so it wasn't too much of a burden when uncle Vernon locked up his school supplies and he was sent to his room. And thus his fifth summer at the Dursley's since receiving his hogwarts letter commenced.

* * *

Rita Skeeter was upset. Because of the Granger wretch she had had to register as an animagus and suffer the many fees that came with that, even though she was certain the idiots had believed her lie of only recently going through the transformation progress. And the bastards had laughed when she'd shown them just what her animagus form had been! Plus, after the debacle from last year, no one would read her columns anymore! She had to go through hell just to get the paper to print it!

It annoyed her to no end that the daily prophet had reformed their company, using stricter protocol for fact checking. Those idiots just didn't understand. No one wants to read about boring and mundane things such as whether or not the minister uses ministry money to buy a seven foot tall mirror. They want to know about the sensational. And there's only one person who can give it to them.

It was because if this that Rita was stalking Harry Potter. Everything sensational happens to him. He's a walking tragedy, and the prophet needs to hop on the bandwagon of potter fever if they want to sell. It was that that motivated Rita to do an in-depth look at Potters life, something normally reserved for after death, but needs must. It also helps that no one really knows how Potters life went after the fall of You-Know-Who. Everyone wants to hop on the muggle rights bandwagon nowadays and a report on the muggles who raised the hero would draw in their supporters.

Rita was currently attached to Potter shirt collar, riding in the back of a muggle vehicle. It was then that she got her first inkling of suspicion. They weren't talking. After a year of being apart there are no kind words being shared.

If a grin could have stretched across Rita's beetle face, it would have in this moment. Maybe everything wasn't perfect for boy wonder. It's common knowledge that tragedy sells more than any happy stories these days. And if Rita is right in her hunch, she could be sitting on a gold mine. How right she would turn out to be.

* * *

**The Boy In Pain**

_By: Rita Skeeter_

**Warning: The following contains graphic descriptions of violence against a minor.**

After the atrocious blunders of ministry officials of last year, Harry Potters' name has been cleared of all doubt and slander. Most everyone can say that they were taken in by the conspiracy against the Boy-Who-Lived; after all, the sources were ministry officials. This humble writer wasn't the only one a little miffed that the boy hero's name was being dragged through the mud, and wished to make amends. It was that noble cause that uncovered a most horrifying truth.

I, Rita Skeeter, followed after the boy when the Hogwarts express pulled into platform 9¾. Unfortunately the crowds got a bit too rambunctious and I had to resort to my animagus form to keep following Mr. Potter. Yes, you read that right. I registered as an animagus in the ministry this past April, my form being that of a beetle. It was in this form that I latched onto Mr. Potter in desperate hopes that I may not be squashed by passer-bys. I was a bit delirious with the rapid movements and hadn't realized that I had accidentally followed Mr. Potter into his muggle relatives' automobile. Ashamedly, I felt that I could simply wait until the family had returned home and then knocked on the door, to hopefully not only express my regrets to the young boy but also get to meet the people who raised such a fine child. Throughout the trip I felt the relatives were fighting, seeing as how they hadn't said a word to each other. This was not the case.

When we arrived at the muggle address I did the polite thing and vacated the automobile and waited patiently for the streets to be empty in order to transform. I never had the chance to do so however as I heard alarming crashing sounds as soon as the family walked in the door. It was then that this writer made the decision that would forever change her perspective on a one Mr. Harry James Potter. I rushed into the house, still as a beetle, to witness the large, older man, later known as Harry Potter uncle: Vernon Dursley, strike the boy hero. Without seeming any provocation, the uncle continued to berate Mr. Potter in a way that obviously was not healthy. The man proceeded to lock all magical implements in the cupboard under the stairs. Potter was then sent to his room.

This blatantly antagonistic behavior piqued the interest of the maternal instincts inside me, and I felt it was my responsibility to make a full investigation of the family's dynamic. It was this decision that would later turn into a personal conviction, that uncovered one of the most shocking cases of abuse this writer has ever encountered in her years as a writer for _The Daily Prophet_.

The weeks that followed will be forever etched into my mind. Mr. Potters' routine consisted of rising early and making his relatives breakfast, a meal he wasn't allowed to touch. He was then sent back into his room. The door to his room has many locks and even a cat flap. The implications were not lost on me, as I know they will not be on you dear readers. His room consists of barren walls and broken furniture. In fact, the only furniture in the room was a plain bed, wobbly desk and wardrobe. The only thing that betrayed any abnormality was the empty owl cage that sat in the corner. Throughout the day Mr. Potter would leave his room to perform whatever task was asked of him. He would receive water throughout the day, but only received food once per day, and certain times, not at all. His starvation would almost always be a consequence of a situation he couldn't control (such as is the case when his cousin broke dishes simply for him to get in trouble) or for being "cheeky." The forced fasting was extremely detrimental to Mr. Potter's health, and as such his body steadily slowed down, which incensed his relatives wrath even more.

The first two weeks held only starvation and harsh words. It appeared that the muggles resented Mr. Potter for his magic and frequently insulted him for his so-called "abnormalities." Frequently recurring insults included "freak", "worthless", and often comparing the highly esteemed Potter family to alcoholics and layabouts. It's a little known fact that Mr. Potter had no idea he was a wizard until his eleventh birthday when he got his acceptance letter to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. One can only hope Mr. Potter did not believe these lies growing up in such a house.

It was the two week mark that spelled trouble for the young hero. It was one "cheeky" comment too many that had incurred his uncles fury. It was normally the aunt that starved and occasionally beat Mr. Potter with a frying pan when breakfast was not up to her standards. His uncle ordered him to his room to "get prepared." This foreboding wording had me rushing upstairs to check on just what other cruelty this family from hell could inflict.

I was not disappointed.

I watched with bated breath as Mr. Potter calmed himself and then removed his shirt. The sight of the many scars that simply littered his back solidified the notions of many years of abuse. I could hardly catch my panicked breath as the uncle stormed in with his belt in hand. Mr. Potter immediately braced himself against the wall. His face was grim and resigned as the tragic hero took the beating. It was only around the fifteenth lash that the boy started to get desperate and the begging started. It was heartbreaking to see what this writer perceives was a practiced response to the beating. When the uncle finally tired and left, Potter collapsed. He spent a few minutes calming his shaking body and making his way over to a loose floorboard. In it, were a number of healing potions the boy had stolen from school.

This process repeats itself numerous times throughout the summer. Potter would get beaten, he would heal himself, and then continue on his way. It was two weeks away from the new school year that Mr. Potter ran out of healing potions. When his uncle lashed out, he would simply bear the wounds the next day. It was brave and foolish at the same time. Now, I know what you dear readers are all thinking. Why didn't he get help? Why hasn't anyone been checking in on the Boy-Who-Lived? and most importantly, why hadn't I intervened?

It is with a heavy heart that I share with you all my own weakness, and of all the other that have failed Mr. Potter. It was my immediate reaction as soon as that first lash hit to run to the ministry. Halfway out the boys window I realized no one could save the boy from this particular beating fast enough. It was also that thought that triggered a number of questions within me. Obviously the boy is enemy #1 to deatheaters galore, so why wouldn't the ministry check up on the poor boy? The only reason I could think of was that the ministry either has never checked up on such a high profile person, which would be gross negligence on their part, or they have and the case got swept under the rug. The only reason Potter could be anywhere is if it were safe; at least against death eaters. Which means that for whatever magical protection existed in his relatives care, is worth the price of daily beatings and abuse. I could only conclude that no one has ever truly spoken up for the boy, and was determined to gather enough evidence to present a case to the ministry. It was then that I commenced a two month stake-out to get The-Boy-Who-Lived removed from their care, and hopefully justice for all negligence involved.

It was a grueling and torturous two months. Watching such an icon reduced to tears from muggles was painful and difficult to watch, but I succeeded. The entire pensieve memory is open to public viewing of the entire two months there. I also presented the case to the ministry in hopes of starting an investigation. Ministry records show that the placement of Harry Potter went to Mr. Albus Dumbledore, headmaster to Hogwarts and long-time family friend of the Potter family. One has to wonder if the man had gone senile in his old age to allow such acts against Potter, or if he deliberately pitted Potters safety against death eaters against his safety in his own home. Only a thorough investigation will tell, and I for one am hoping, that for the first time ever, Azkaban has muggle inmates.

Further details will be available in my upcoming book_ Unbreakable: The Story of an Abused Hero_. Any further updates on the investigation you will find in _The Daily Prophet_ for the next coming months.


	2. The-Boy-In-Pain

**The-Boy-Who-Lived by Rita Skeeter**

**Chapter 2: The-Boy-In-Pain**

**Words: 3,031  
**

**Rated: M**

**AN: Fair warning this will have Dumbledore bashing but Dumbledore isn't an evil incarnate in this one. Ya, I don't really know about this chapter. Seems kinda wordy but whatever. Have fun.  
**

* * *

Harry punched his pillow and laid his aching body on his four-poster bed. His first day back at Hogwarts had been the usual affair. Of course there was the surprise of Snape somehow becoming the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Harry had shrugged at Ron's outrage, not particularly caring what Snape did. If he was incompetent in teaching others to defend themselves (which he strongly suspected was the case), Harry would just have to reinstate the D.A. Of course the slytherin table had erupted in applause while everyone else had merely groaned. Dumbledore had finished the opening of the new school year with his usual jovial and yet vaguely threatening speech.

The rest of the night had passed without incident and before Harry knew it he was headed for bed. The marks on his back twinged a bit when he changed into his night clothes, but he steadily ignored them. He had considered getting them healed but with the new professor probably changing everything around he would have no idea where to find a healing draught. Besides, the marks didn't hurt _that _bad and they would fade on their own eventually, so there was no pressing concern.

His Uncle had avoided Harrys' face in preparation for him returning to school, which made his chest a smorgasbord of different coloured bruises, and his back an interesting arrangement of welts and cuts. The effect was quite startling, but Harry didn't care as long as his heavy school robes covered them. He didn't want someone noticing something and causing an unnecessary reaction.

He was looking forward to the new year. His godfather was still a sore topic he desperately hoped no one would bring up, but people had finally started to believe him about Voldemort's return and were hopefully preparing to protect themselves from the future conflict. People were finally taking the threat seriously and lines were being drawn from those with the conviction to fight and those who will run. It was definitely going to be an interesting year. Harry just hadn't expected the fun to start _quite_ so soon as breakfast the next morning.

He was listening to Ron rant and rave at the ridiculousness of Snape's new position with an amused smile when the usual flurry of owls brought everyone the post. Harry (who stoutly refused to subscribe to the daily prophet) received nothing, but took notice when a hush went over the entirety of the great hall. He looked up from his breakfast of plain oatmeal to see hundreds of students intently reading the daily prophet. They all shared similar expressions of shock and disbelief, no matter what house, age or whether they came from dark families or light ones. There were a few first years who looked confused, but Harry suspected they were muggle-born. It was an uncommon reaction to say the least and Harry felt the small part of him that craved gossip take interest.

Suspecting that it was some kind of tragedy so horrible and shocking that it forced even death eaters to grow a conscious, Harry expectantly turned to Ron. Harry felt his concern increase as he took in Ron's stricken expression.

"Mate…" Ron started.

"What? What is it? What happened?" Harry questioned. Hermione was crying with full force as her gaze met his. Wordlessly, she shoved the paper across the table.

His first thought when he glimpsed the image accompanying the article was that some poor bastard was getting the shit kicked out of him. The picture looked as though it had been taken through a door and neither subject seemed to notice. It was only when he read the title that he recognized the subject as himself. He felt his breath leave him and his chest tighten. He quickly scanned the article, feeling a deep and dark rage settle in when he discovered Rita Skeeter had followed him home. That rage was quickly pushed aside for uneasiness as he realized the entire great hall was reading about him getting beaten up and screaming and crying and begging for it to stop and _oh god._

He stood abruptly, poised for when the idea of what the hell he was supposed to do next came to him. A flash of light came at him from the slytherin table. Harry was too caught up in his own horror to react. The spell completely ate his cloak and later the shirt he had on underneath, leaving the damning evidence exposed for the scrutiny of the entire hogwarts great hall. At least before he could have said Skeeter was lying. Now there was no lying, no deceit. Not even Malfoy could say he spinned that story for attention.

Despite himself, Harry felt his gaze stray to the slytherin table. Everyone there looked vaguely nauseous, staring at Harry stupidly. His eyes met that of his archrival before he quickly looked away. Once again without his consent he turned to take in the head table. His gaze was interrupted by a small legion of teachers marching towards him. Headed by Dumbledore, at his left was Snape and his right Professor McGonagall. They were only a few feet away when Harry noticed he was shaking. Tears of frustration made their home in his eyes, and he unwillingly tried to step back, which caused him to trip over the bench he was sitting on. The world spun as people shouted and the pace of the teachers march sped up. The tension in the air was so thick and dark that Harry felt a breath of relief leave him when spots appeared in his vision. He gratefully embraced the darkness, which he would later reflect on as not being very gryffindor, and made his way to the ground. Before his head could touch the cool stone, a body smelling of soot and potion fumes caught him.

* * *

Severus Snape stared down at the newspaper that dared to ruin his breakfast. The bloody bird had plonked the stupid gossip rag right on his tea, effectively ruining morning.

Begrudgingly he glanced at the headline and stopped. **The-Boy-in-Pain** _by Rita skeeter._ Severus just stared at the article blankly for a few seconds before sitting back and article featured numerous photos that looked like they had been taken incognito of the celebrated boy hero being savagely beaten. There was no way this was true. Arrogance such as the one Potter has cannot be cultivated in an abusive environment. Besides that, Dumbledore would never have let the golden boy get near any muggles that could hurt him.

Severus glanced up and watched as Potter clutched the article without moving. Everyone in the great hall were staring at boy wonder, waiting for a reaction. Potter rose suddenly and glanced around wildly.

One of Severus' little snakes sent a dissolving curse and then everyone was treated to the sight of many weeks poor treatment. The sheer _number_ of bruises and lacerations made a chill of unease run up his spine. That damage might be fake, but it sure looked real.

"Severus" Dumbledore said breaking him out of the trance the whole great hall seemed to be in. The old wizard gestured for Severus to follow him and they quickly rose and started for Gryffindor table, with the boys head of house following closely at Dumbledores other side.

At half way the boy turned to face them and the panic and humiliation was written clear across his face. Whatever was going on here, whether abuse or any number of reasons, it had obviously taken its toll on Potter.

The boy started to sway and before anyone could react the boy was falling to the ground. Severus, being the closest and not past the age of one hundred, was the first to reach him and quickly supported his underfed body with Severus' own.

The entire great hall broke into tense whispers that resembled buzzing bees. Severus lowered Potter to the ground and braces his head while doing a cursory diagnosis. The boy had fainted. He faced Dumbledore to await orders. The old man was pale and tense.

"Get him to the hospital wing."

The ex-potions master quickly complied and levitated the prone form. The din became louder the closer he came to the door. The could see the rest of the golden trio being grilled for answers. Many of the younger years and hufflepuffs were crying. The slytherins were maintaining a passive air as they gossiped, but all were pale. Hagrids' booming sobs rang out through the hall and despite the situation Severus couldn't help but sneer. Then he, and the legion of teachers made for the hospital wing.

* * *

The sound of an argument intensifying drove Harry from his blissfully ignorant state. He tried to make out the familiar voices but could only really remember Mrs. Pomfrey's shrill tone. Annoyed, Harry tried to make out the gist of the conversation.

"-do you mean heal him? The ministry needs his injuries documented for evidence!" a scottish woman's voice rang out, jerking Harry conscious from his half-awake state.

Harry groaned and lifted his head to peer into the eyes of his spectators. Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, Snape, and Madam Pomfrey completely halted their conversation. It seemed the adults were paralyzed, waiting for some kind of reaction. Harry didn't quite understand why he was in the hospital wing yet and for all he knew he could be dying of dragon pox. Harry felt a spell he hadn't notice break at the far end of the hospital wing by the door and the room was suddenly full of muffled cries of outrage. There seemed to be a herd of angry students banging on the hospital wing door and crying out for answers. Harry could vaguely hear his friends in the mix but before he could truly try and listen all four teachers sent strong silencing spells at the door.

As his wits returned to him, Harry remembered his first day of the new year at Hogwarts start with such a dreadful secret coming to light and felt his cheeks heat. He sat up in his bed and turned to the headmaster.

"Professor, I'm so sorry. I had no idea she'd followed me home."

It seemed that was the wrong thing to say as the room seemed to grow a few degrees colder as the women both turned to face Dumbledore with equally appalled expressions while Snape's mask of neutrality paled a few shades. Dumbledore himself seemed to keep an expression of profound loss on his face as he shrank back from his fellows' fury.

"You knew about this?" Harry's head of house asked, taking a menacing step forward.

"You willfully endangered a child?" The mediwitch continued, striding right next to the animagus.

Harry, sensing the conflict, quickly threw his arms in the air in surrender and defended the man whom he loved like a grandfather.

"No! I never told him! It's the fact that that Rita Skeeter can follow me home and learn my secrets I'm apologizing for!"

The two women sucked in a breath and turned from the headmaster to face Harry. Harry cowered under their pitying looks. Both women had gone from emotion to emotion within seconds and it scared the living daylights out of him. Harry was well aware what these women could do and having all their attention on him was really messing with his nerves.

"Harry dear…" Madam Pomfrey began, "you know it's not your fault this happened to you?"

Harry felt a sliver of fear go up his spine but reined himself in and scowled.

"That doesn't _matter_. What matters is what we're going to do now that the "Boy-Who-Lived" is going to be seen as a weak kid who gets beaten by _muggles_. Voldemort's right around the corner and people can't be distracted by this."

Harry waved his hand for emphasis and then crossed his arms, hoping that he'd gotten his point across. Honestly, it's not like his uncle has anything on the Cruciatus curse.

The floo suddenly flared and Professor Flitwick and a man and a woman dressed in work robes entered. Flitwick pursed his lips as he purposefully strode towards the scene. He stopped next to Dumbledore and intensely whispered in the headmasters' ear. The old man gave a little nod and the newcomers came forward and presented themselves to Harry.

The woman had kind eyes but radiated power, like she could easily maim but would never feel the urge. She had delicate dark locks held back in a tight bun with large spectacles. She came forward and offered her hand to Harry which he reluctantly shook. There were callouses on her hand. Harry pulled his own hand back quickly after the greeting.

"Hello Mr. Potter. My name is Alexandra Hopkins. You can just call me Alex. And this-" Alex said, gesturing to the dark skinned man standing next to her, "is Ezra."

The man stood straight backed with a grim expression and dark eyes. He kept his chin up and nodded towards Harry instead of offering his hand.

The two waited expectantly, but Harry remained silent, glaring just a bit.

A small frown went across Alex's' face but she pressed on. "We come from the department of Magical Children Regulation and Safety from the Ministry of Magic and we will be handling your case."

Harry then had the very strong urge to hiss at the woman but controlled himself. It wasn't her fault that the woman got assigned the most pointless case from the lot. He just straightened his back and tried to look as poised as possible despite fainting only a few minutes prior. The woman didn't bat an eyelash at the reaction. Harry kept his voice controlled as he faced the woman.

"And what exactly is your purpose?"

The woman smiled warmly again and continued her explanation.

"During the process it is our job to gather evidence and investigate any and all persons involved in the crime. We are awarded auror status and have the same privileges and techniques as them, but are not called such because the crimes we investigate are more…" she faulted, "passive…"

Her partner's lips twitched and he flexed his fingers as if to completely contradict her.

"Naturally we are going to have to take your statement. Seeing as how you've been living there for fifteen years other things might pop up though the investigation. I will be the liaison between you and the investigation. I'm also trained to best assess mental stability and the consequences of trauma, so I suspect we'll be seeing each other a lot from now on."

Harry regarded her coldly. She really thought he would be traumatized by what uncle Vernon had done? When he'd seen people die, scream, writhe, and beg? When he himself had been under the cruciatus and felt words carved into the back of his hand? And yet someone knocking him around some was the most traumatizing thing to happen to him?

The woman opened her mouth to speak again but Harry crudely interrupted her.

"I will not be giving a statement. Do the investigation without me. Or don't, I don't care."

Harry made to get up when Madam Pomfrey bustled over and firmly pushed him back abed. Harry glowered but didn't struggle.

"Now listen here young man, I don't care whether or not you comply with the ministry but you're not leaving here with all those injuries. Now stay there while I fetch the necessary potions."

The group watched the mediwitch bustle off. Alex sighed, but turned to face the headmaster instead.

"I'm afraid, Albus Dumbledore, that you will have limited to no further contact with Mr. Potter."

Ezra came around behind the headmaster as if to stop him from fleeing. The old man continued to look weary and defeated but nodded nonetheless. Harry wasn't as forthcoming.

"What do you mean no contact? That's stupid! He's the headmaster of the school. I can't just avoid him. And it's not like he ever hit me."

An infuriating softness invaded Alex's eyes as took a seat from the chair next to him and pulled it up to his bed. Harry unconsciously shrunk away from the woman.

"He's being investigated for the willful endangerment of a child. He's lucky he's still allowed to work at all."

Harry swallowed. This was happening. This was real.

"I'm not a child anymore."

Her partner finally spoke then, "You are in the eyes of the law."

The woman sensed the unease that had overridden Harry's rage and quickly stood to face the witnesses.

"I'm going to have to ask that all but the matron leave as we will need to speak with Mr. Potter privately."

The two professors who had watched the dispute between the ministry official and Harry silently nodded and left, taking Dumbledore and Professor Flitwick with them. They left by floo to avoid the angry mob.

"Now, Mr. Potter…" the woman started, "what's your earliest childhood memory?"

* * *

When the professors landed in Dumbledore's office no one spoke. Minerva took one hard look at Albus and then turned on her heel and left, with a nerve-wracked Flitwick hot on her heels.

Severus took one of the seats sitting in front of the headmasters desk and patiently waited for his mentor to take his place. The old man warily got behind the huge desk as if it were a foreign position, and not one he took every day.

"Albus…" Severus began, "this actually happened didn't it? There are no lies being told here by that blasted Skeeter woman is there?"

It didn't feel like a question, but the headmaster nodded anyway. The potions master waited patiently for Dumbledore's explanation.

"I knew…" Severus tensed at these words. "I knew that he wasn't happy. I simply thought because his cousin was larger that he was that he was picked on. I never knew…"

The man took a deep breath, "I never thought an adult would strike a child in such a manner. Especially not family."

Severus blinked, then nodded. He stood swiftly and made for the door.

"You are a fool Albus."

From the other side of the door Severus could hear the soft weepings of the headmaster.


	3. The-Odd-Boy-Out

**The-Boy-Who-Lived by Rita Skeeter**

**Chapter 3: The-Odd-Boy-Out**

**Words: 2,632**

**Rated: M**

* * *

Harry ground his teeth and refused to speak after he was left alone with the ministry officials. The woman tried coaxing him and making logical and reasonable arguments to why he should answer their questions: saying how it would bring criminals to justice and save his peace of mind, and when that didn't work, simply said that the sooner he started talking the sooner it would be all over. Harry just focused on a point in the wall behind her and pressed his lips together. What she said made sense to a degree and he almost fell for it.

Almost.

When they finally gave up and left to do who knows what, Madame Pomfrey came by and told him he was fit for class if he was up for it. Of course he was. He was fine, and this whole debacle was just another way for the magical world to get their kicks off Harry Potters' life. It was a total waste of time and attention with the war coming. It would make previous supporters think him weak and damaged, and his enemies think him vulnerable; ripe for the picking.

When Harry left the infirmary he was greeted with the sight of dozens of angry students all clamboring to reach him. Ron and Hermione were doing a valiant job trying to hold them back but both seemed to be too overcome with emotion to really help. Harry swiftly started walking to his second class, seeing as he'd spent the first one being interrogated. It seems the hoard cared more about gossip than their academics. At least he knew Ron and Hermione were just worried for him, as they swiftly started following his mouvements. First period was potions so at least something good came out of it.

"Is it true?"

"Obviously if there's a pensieve memory and the ministry's investigating."

"The ministry's been wrong before."

"Harry fainted when he found out. It must be true."

"Maybe it was just the thought of Rita Skeeter following him home. I know if I had a reporter in my room in my personal private time I'd faint too."

"Eww."

The whispers were annoying. They never stopped and they kept getting more and more personal the more they continued. Harry just kept on marching on, keeping the same strategy for when he was being questioned by ministry officials; ignoring them.

When he finally made it to transfiguration, McGonagall shooed off the crowd with a few stern words and class resumed. The rest of the day proceeded to be the worst day of Harry's life. Well, not literally since seeing Cedric and Sirius die was pretty horrifying, but it was certainly the most humiliating. He was generally used to people staring but not so much. They hung on every mouvement as if he was going to break because he dropped his quill. Every time he so much as _shifted_ people drew just a few centimeters closer as if to save him from falling. Most of the people who followed him just did it because of the curiosity of the thing, however there were a few who seemed to be truly empathetic and wanted to help. They always looked especially sad and Harry felt just a little bit guilty when he brushes off their offer for comfort. No one seemed to question Harry directly, which also pissed him off. They all kept the topic as hushed whispers that Harry could hear throughout the castle. After last year, not a single one of them questioned the daily prophet or asked for his side of the story. Not that Harry would have given it to them but _still_.

It was just after dinner that McGonagall summoned him from the common room. Harry had decided that an early bedtime was in order and had retreated to his scarlet covered bed only to be interrupted by Ron saying that their head of house wanted to speak with him. Ignoring the whispers that followed him, he descended gryffindor tower with the scottish woman. They came to her office and walked in to see his least favourite people save voldemort. Snape stood behind her desk looking especially pale, and the two ministry pests Harry had met previous sat in the chairs across from him.

They all looked up when they saw the two gryffindors in the doorway and Alex gestured to the seat next to her, which Harry took begrudgingly.

Once everyone had been seated Alex took charge and laid a large stack of parchment on the desk.

"This contains very preliminary facts we pulled from Rita Skeeter's pensieve record."

Harry immediately wanted the pile of parchment to burn. He schooled his features and faced the ministry dogs with a bored expression. Harry saw Ezra's eyebrow twitch.

"Since Mr. Potter hasn't exactly been…" Alex continued, "_forthcoming_ we have been forced to conclude that the trauma was too great to talk about. In cases such as this we send off the victim for counselling in the hopes that they will eventually be able to feel safe and talk about what happened."

A terrible thought occurred to Harry then. This was the plan. This was why the ministry was wasting resources on him other than to save public image. They are going to pull him out of school for therapy. They are going to scream from the high heavens that Harry Potter is too traumatized and fucked in the head to continue school. They were finally going to do what they'd been trying to do for all of last year, and no one was going to stop them because it was for his own good. Hell, that's probably what they were doing with trying to pin Dumbledore with child endangerment.

"You're not pulling me out of school." Harry blurted out, face stricken.

Ezra looked satisfied with the reaction while Alex seemed to grow flustered. Snape interjected at that point and sent Harry a piercing stare.

"Taking you out of school on the eve of your last year is something that should not be done. That is why they have offered an alternative."

Harry felt a small trickle of fear at the expression before annoyance chased it away.

"And that would be..?"

A few coughs and Alex takes his hands into her own.

"Harry," She starts softly, instantly telling him he's going to hate what she has to say, "Professor Snape is the only one with the necessary qualifications to treat you in school."

Horror invades all of Harry's senses, but lasts only a few moments before rage envelops him. Just last year with occlumency Harry was forced to trust Snape with his mind, now he was going to be forced to do the same thing, albeit in a different fashion. And he wouldn't stand for it.

"No."

Harry retracts his fingers from Alex's grasp and crosses his arms, jaw set. Alex sighs.

"Harry, I know you and Professor Snape have had your differences, but he is willing to put all that aside to help you. He is still your Professor and he will take an oath of silence if you really need it."

Harry turns his glare towards the potions master, such a familiar action that it's somehow comforting. Snape looked uneasy, but when he caught Harry watching him he returned the glare.

"Are there any other options?"

Harry's head of house was the first to answer.

"There originally was the option of bringing a ministry official to act as your counsellor, but the ministry is too understaffed these days to have one single counsellor for your use. We also considered sending you to a muggle psychologist but Alexandra assures me that openness is key in therapy, and that you couldn't be completely open with muggles without violating the statute of secrecy. There is no other option."

Harry could tell that Professor McGonagall wasn't too thrilled with the idea either.

Harry schooled his glare and regarded the situation. No he most certainly did not want to talk to Snape about anything at all, and he was certain that the feeling was mutual. It could be that Harry and Snape would simply meet up once a week and stare each other down for an hour. At worst Snape would be deliberately belligerent in hopes of getting a rise out of him, but something tells Harry that that wouldn't happen (well, at least not again.) There must be rules that you can't be a bastard during therapy right? Besides, they want Harry to talk about his feelings and what happened, and there is no way he was going to tell Snape anything. If anything, it could be ideal, seeing as they could have given him someone who he would feel guilty lying to, or guilty for not speaking at all. Sighing, he uncrossed his arms.

"Fine."

Alex looked like she was seriously considering hugging him then. The others looked shocked beyond belief that the steadfast gryffindor gave in so easily and Ezra just smirked. Alex regained his attention with her packing up all the files.

"Great! You will meet with Professor Snape here, in McGonagall's office Mondays and Fridays immediately after dinner at six." and with that the two ministry officials said their goodbyes and left through the floo.

Harry cursed his luck one last time before leaving as well, refusing to make further eye contact with his Professors. It was only Monday, meaning that he would have most of the week to pout about his situation. He would have to reschedule any quidditch practices he had planned for those days. This year just keeps getting better and better.

He returned to the gryffindor common room and quickly returned to bed, ignoring his friends. He was sure he was going to regret that later but he just couldn't deal with their pity and nosiness right now.

* * *

The week continued, no matter how many times it felt like it wouldn't. The whispers never ceased, but Harry could turn it out enough so that he can't hear the words. Harry had complete strangers come up to him and ask him-not if it was true- but if his family had really left scars on him, and if he could show them (as proof of course.) Harry had been repressing everything that has happened like a bad dream that whenever someone really confronts him he gets nauseous. He uses his anger and annoyance as a blanket to cover to any prying people, but it gets exhausting, and people's persistence was gradually wearing on his self-control, and evidently his control over his stomach.

The day after "the incident" Harry had received a letter that says that his sessions with Snape were to remain completely confidential on _both_ ends, and that Snape's identity was to remain a secret. Harry had scowled into the letter. Of course the greasy git wouldn't want anyone to think he was "helping" Harry Potter. Well that's fine with Harry.

Eventually, after days of simply being ignored in Snape's class, the dreaded Friday had arrived in which he was supposed to meet and "talk" about his feelings. Harry hated it. Sure he didn't have the best life but Harry truly believed that people like Neville really deserved compulsory therapy for what he's had to go through in life. Neville was kind and brave and has seen what death eaters can really do. In fact, there were a lot of other people who should be getting therapy before Harry(actual therapy, not this facade that Harry is being forced into.)

Ron and Hermione had been supportive in their own way. Hermione was actively restraining herself with not barraging Harry with questions, encouraging words, or her own personal sob story. Ron seemed to hate the entire situation. He glares menacingly at the whispers but seems at a loss for how to comfort his friend. Personally, Harry thought they were doing remarkably well considering their past attitudes. The entire situation was just weighing on them and Harry desperately wanted it to just go away. It had produced a distance between them as friends, made them more wary as to what they say and how they act around Harry. They had become softer, as had everyone around him and he _hated_ it. He was not a scared little boy crying in his cupboard. He was Harry _bleeding_ Potter for heaven's sake. Defeater of the dark lord, learned the patronus at age thirteen, and youngest seeker in the century; one would think that that garners a bit of respect. But no, no respect for his person, no respect for his friends, and no respect for his private life.

Sighing, Harry was so caught up in his rant that he completely forgot that he was to meet up with Snape in gryffindor tower and not the dungeons. Harry turned on his heel when he discovered he locked door, and instead started for the stairs when he ran into a boy with pale blond hair.

"Potter!" Draco Malfoy screeches as he tries to catch the vial of potion he'd been carrying.

Harry ignored his archrival, not liking Malfoy's new uneasy attitude after the article was released, and tried to push past him.

Malfoy wouldn't have that and pushed back. Harry tripped and fell to the ground from the force, and landed in a heap.

Malfoy scowled as if he was personally offended that Harry had tripped and his hand twitched.

Harry gave him a dirty look, sitting up.

"Malfoy, didn't daddy teach you it's not nice to push?"

Harry really didn't know why he goaded the slytherin, but it felt justified at the time.

"Didn't yours?" Malfoy replied. The boy still looked uneasy at being in the others presence, but it seems habit was forcing his words instead of the retreat Malfoy seemed to be wanting.

Harry narrowed his eyes at the mention of his dead father, and Malfoy shifts his expression to one of horror. He obviously thinks that his tactless comments will somehow have more meaning than they usually do and that Harry will burst into tears at the slightest provocation. Harry _hated_ _it_.

"I see your daddy also didn't teach you how to dress yourself. Then again, I guess he never thought he'd have to teach a ferret."

The words were petty and vapid and admittedly not very clever, but Harry couldn't find it in himself to care that he seemed to be playing more of Malfoy's role in their usual banter.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed at Harry's form, still sitting on the ground, before putting his nose in the air. He took a few steps towards the heap of Harry Potter, and spoke:

"I see the golden boy is still as arrogant as ever, regardless of a certain article."

Malfoy "accidentally" stepped on his hand, before continuing on his way down the corridor, completely ignoring Harry's pained hiss.

Harry laid there for a few moments before standing. He cradled his hand but it didn't really hurt much. With a shrug, Harry made his way up the stairs.

It wasn't until halfway there that Harry realized how rejuvenated he felt. His minor fight with his archrival had really blown off some steam, and Malfoy treating him like he always had had been comforting, in its own way. It was like as soon as Malfoy had insulted him he was suddenly someone who _can_ be insulted again. It was like he was his old self, back before that ridiculous article. Harry didn't particularly know _why_ it was fighting with Malfoy that had comforted him, when there were other things in Hogwarts that haven't changed after "the incident" but decided not to dwell. Instead, starting going over the numerous ways he can end up in the hospital wing in the trek to his first therapy session.


End file.
